


As True As A Compass

by flaming_muse



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: “I should get back to my letters,” Laurent said.  “Your letters, actually, since you have turned into a lay-about since becoming king.”An epilogue for the Captive Prince trilogy, taking place just a couple of days after the end of Kings Rising, with a few bits of information pulled from the short story "The Summer Palace."





	As True As A Compass

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished the series, I wanted more (as we fans are wont to do), and then Laurent started talking in my head. He's impossible to ignore when he gets going.

It was late, the oil lamps burning golden and the night outside inky black, when Laurent was finally able to dismiss Nikandros, Paschal, and the last few servants from the king’s rooms.

Their discussions were nowhere near finished, but securing the kingdoms now that Damen and Laurent were leading them would be the work of weeks, months. Laurent needed time on his own to think and plan for their next moves, not to mention sleep when he could, if he could with the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. It was time for some solitude and some peace.

“I shall return at sunrise, Majesty,” Paschal said with a bow.

The new title flowed easily from his lips, though it still sounded strange to Laurent’s ears to have it apply to him. Good, even full of triumph, but strange. As a young boy with a father and older brother who loomed as large as mountains in his eyes, he had never dreamed of the title of king being his. But even mountains could crumble to dust.

Laurent said to Nikandros, “I shall expect you at sunrise, as well.”

“Of course.” If Nikandros seemed as weary as the rest of them, at least he seemed to understand just how important their work was. Laurent could understand why Damen trusted him.

“You might also think of getting some rest, Majesty,” Paschal told Laurent as he stepped into the hallway, his tone kind and knowing.

“I will,” Laurent promised him.

“Not soon enough, I’d wager,” Paschal said with a sigh, like he wanted to say more, but he did not press his point. Laurent assumed he’d known him too long to think pushing would get him anywhere.

As the others left, Laurent nodded to the guards posted outside the door, and they nodded coolly back. He knew they didn’t quite trust him, the uncrowned king of Vere alone with their own king in the middle of Ios, but that was as it should be. Nikandros had assured Laurent that the guards were completely loyal to Akielos - and more importantly to Damen, himself. Though they knew Laurent was Damen’s close ally, Laurent could not expect to be trusted by them, not yet, just as he knew his own safety would only be a concern for them after they were sure Damen was out of harm’s way.

That, too, was as it should be in this palace so far from his home, in this palace where Damen was now finally king.

Laurent let out a measured breath as the door shut, leaving him in silence. His life had always been filled with the omnipresence of servants and the busyness of court, and he knew how to manage them, but it was still a pleasure to be able to shut them all out.

No, it wasn’t just a pleasure. It was a tangible moment of relief.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and rolled his shoulders, easing muscles stiff with a tension it would likely be months before he could properly release.

“Silence at last,” he murmured to himself.

It wasn’t just for his own sanity that he felt relieved to have the room at peace again, as much as he relished the ability to let his guard down instead of keeping every reaction under check and every person under suspicion. It was also because alone with him Laurent could be sure, for once, that Damen was actually safe.

Safe was a relative term, of course. Damen was as safe as he could be as the new king of a chaos-filled country uniting with its enemy, as safe as he could be with a victory that was still as fragile as the most delicate porcelain, as safe as he could be with a life-threatening wound in his gut, a wound his very own brother had given him, the same brother Laurent had killed to save Damen from having to do it. To save Damen from losing both his life and the peace in his heart.

And yet, here in this room with no one else near but Laurent was still as safe as Damen could be.

Laurent let out another breath, and he plucked at his laces at throat and wrist to loosen the tight confines of his shirt as he walked quietly toward the bed. Damen lay under the light coverlet, lit by a low, flickering lamp on the table beside him. He was just as large in repose as he was on the battlefield, well-muscled and imposing, but he was unnaturally still to Laurent’s eyes. Only the rise and fall of his chest and the color in his cheeks kept him from looking like a corpse.

Laurent knew exactly how simple it would be for someone - almost anyone, if they were given a moment’s opportunity - to turn Damen from a living king into that corpse: a bandage deliberately wound too loose or too tight, the wrong herbs mixed in with his tea, a few drops of something sinister in his poultice... An angry kyros saying the right words in the right ear, and all too easily youth and strength and vitality would be nothing but a memory.

Without conscious thought, Laurent’s gaze passed over the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed, the clean bandages visible against Damen’s bronze skin, and the slow movement of Damen’s breath. All seemed just as it should. All seemed normal, innocuous, safe.

It would be an impossibly easy game to play, Laurent knew, for them not to be. It would be so very easy to tip the future of Akielos in an entirely different direction than the one toward which Damen and Laurent had just barely managed to steer it.

The good news for the country - and for Damen - was that Laurent knew how to play that game, too. He knew how to watch for adversaries. He knew how to maneuver against them. He knew how to wait and how to fight. He knew how to win.

Leaning against the edge of the bed, Laurent smiled to himself, an acidic, proud twist of his lips as he watched Damen - against the odds that had been so greatly stacked against them, even against Laurent’s own wishes for years - continue to breathe.

Laurent’s heart swelled to the point of aching in his chest, a combination of satisfaction and disbelief he couldn’t contain.

They had won.

 _He_ had won - not just Vere but also somehow _love_ \- and he wasn’t going to relax his guard and let that victory be taken away.

Doubt of his own abilities, of the reality of nearly losing everything to his uncle, including his own life, could wait. Emotion could come later. This was the time for precision, for action.

Now was the time to watch every move of the physician’s assistants, to check the source of every medicine, to examine the expressions of every visitor, and to make sure power was firmly seated in the hands of Damen’s allies.

Laurent could not falter for a second until their success was secure. He would not. He would not let himself, not for his own future and especially not for Damen, who could not do what had to be done.

No, Laurent would not let himself falter.

And if, in the dead of night when they were alone and safe, Laurent’s hand betrayed a tiny tremor he couldn’t control as he brushed the tips of his fingers over the curve of Damen’s warm shoulder, the only person who would know and fault him for being human was himself.

Laurent watched Damen sleep for a few moments more. It made his heart go tight with both triumph and concern to see him alive and healing from such a wound, and with a wry shake of his head he walked back to the small table by the window. There was more to be done, so much more. Letters to read and to write, allies to shore up, armies to control. He had two countries’ worth of work to do, and he would not get it all done if he stood there gazing at his lover.

“Focus, you besotted fool,” Laurent muttered under his breath. “Or none of this will still be yours next week.”

It wasn’t just Damen’s good health that he had to deliver to him, after all. He had to deliver his kingdom as well. Spending too much time giving in to his own base need to be reassured of Damen’s well-being would not get them anything but a quick trip to their graves.

That was _not_ going to happen. Laurent set his jaw against the very thought and the panic that threatened to rise in him at the idea that he could falter even now.

It had been _so long_ since Laurent had had someone truly on his side, and that knowledge made the fire in his chest burn brighter, made his determination to protect what he had that much sharper.

Laurent picked up the letter on the table before him and did his best to shut out the surge of feelings, both good and bad, that all but demanded to flood through him.

He would _not_ fail. He would not let himself be tripped up.

Not again.

Not _again_ , he could not make mistakes _again_ , not like he had against his uncle -

He set his jaw and ruthlessly quashed every thought but of the letter in his hands. That was a rabbit hole he would _not_ go down, not tonight. Not ever, if he could avoid it.

“You know, even a mind as prodigious as yours functions better with rest,” came Damen’s voice from the bed, gravely with fatigue but so much stronger than it had been even the day before. Another shiver of relief raced down Laurent’s spine to hear him sounding so much like himself, not fading in front of his eyes like he had on the floor of the baths a couple of days earlier.

Laurent looked over, the fond and respect-filled light in Damen’s eyes making his pulse dance beneath his ribs as it always did. He refused to let it distract him, or at least he refused to let Damen know it did. “There is too much to do,” he replied calmly, flipping to the next page of the letter and focusing on the words there.

“Exactly my point.” Damen struggled to raise himself up on his elbow and made a small, frustrated grunt. He frowned down at his abdomen, which had to be protesting the motion, but he didn’t lower himself back to the bed.

“Don’t exert yourself,” Laurent told him. He hadn’t meant to look up from his work again so quickly, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Damen. He wasn’t used to his body betraying him so easily, but then it often did when Damen was concerned. Perhaps he would have to get used to it.

“Don’t make me,” Damen replied pointedly, still not lying back down.

Laurent watched him for a moment, seeing the pain as well as bull-headed determination etched between Damen’s strong brows. There was no point for either of them in continuing to fight the idea. He knew he was going to give in, not just to Damen’s plea but to the wish of his own heart; it would take less time if he just did it. With a sigh he unfolded himself from his chair and went to sit beside him on the bed. 

Some of the knotted tension in Laurent’s chest immediately unfurled just from coming close to him, close enough to touch, close enough to see how clear Damen’s eyes were again. “Are you hurting?” he asked quietly, keeping his hands still in his lap.

“No.” Damen grimaced as Laurent raised his eyebrows in disbelief at the obvious falsehood. He settled back with another quiet groan. “Yes. Some. But less.”

A handful of platitudes and reassurances passed through Laurent’s thoughts, but none of them rose to his lips. Damen was not yet out of the woods. The danger - the countless dangers from so many quarters, including the kyroi, the Veretian nobility, and Damen’s very own healing body - was not yet behind them. Not that it ever would be completely. There was no peace in ruling a kingdom, certainly no peace in ruling two that had been at odds for so long.

So Laurent could not let himself brush back the dark hair from Damen’s forehead the way his nurse used to pet him when he was a child and say something empty and comforting.

“I need you to be well,” he instead admitted with some reluctance. It wasn’t wise to need another person; he knew that fact deep into his bones. Death came too easily to those he loved. But his words were indeed the truth, and Damen of anyone deserved the truth from him.

Laurent could tell Nikandros and the kyroi that he was repaying the debt of Damen showing up at the Kingsmeet and saving his life, but the way he was carefully making every move to protect all he now had wasn’t an issue of altruism. Not at all. It was entirely selfish.

He needed Damen to stay alive. He needed Damen to live and be healthy. He needed _Damen_... no, he could do this alone, he was doing it right now, but it was so much better _with_ him.

And not just because Damen had saved him from making deadly missteps more than once.

Laurent made himself sit tall against the urge to lie down and press up against him to sleep, wishing for the peace of having Damen at his side, protecting his back, a partner and a friend who meant safety and challenge and companionship all at once. No, Damen’s ability to check Laurent’s mistakes wasn’t the only reason having him was better.

Laurent had him, had power _and_ Damen, and he wasn’t going to let either go again.

It was a danger to let Damen - anyone - matter to him, but there was no going back. Having this love, this love that wasn’t a betrayal like his uncle’s or a child’s deep loss like Auguste’s... it was worth the risks. It was worth the work to keep it.

“I _am_ well,” Damen said.

Laurent fixed him with another judgmental look. That statement was so absolutely preposterous it deserved no other reply.

“I am getting there,” Damen said with an easy laugh, like he wasn’t one mis-measured sleeping draught administered by someone still loyal to his brother away from not healing at all. “And _you_ , Laurent, are making it so I am.” He waved at the papers, at the medicines on the table, at the bed he was lying on. There was a bit of delight in his voice, and it made Laurent bristle, like he was a new lap dog performing an unexpected trick.

“Of course I am,” Laurent replied with a lift of his chin. It was in his own self-interest, after all, not just for Vere but for his own heart. It should not have been a surprise to Damen.

“Of course you are,” Damen echoed, but he sounded doting instead of matter of fact. “You’ve kept me alive more than once by your will alone.”

Laurent watched him again, not quite sure how to read his tone. He didn’t think Damen was mocking him, but it was obvious that Laurent’s feelings for him were a weakness, making this press to consolidate Damen’s authority even more personal for Laurent. He wanted to be king, but he also wanted to help _Damen_ , to secure his kingdom for him. It was indeed a weakness, this need to please him. Even Damen had to know that.

Damen held so much power over him. The strength of Laurent’s feelings for him was not just a crack but a gaping hole in his armor. He would do anything to protect him; he’d already proved he would have given his own life for him, in fact. Love left him defenseless, focused on winning for them both more than on himself. It would be so easy to be used, so easy to be led astray. As Laurent had once been by one of his very own blood.

The thought sent a chill dancing up Laurent’s spine. The room did a quick spin around him, the walls pressing in on him, the air thick in his lungs despite the windows being open to the fresh night breeze.

But, he reminded himself with a fierce compression of his emotions, there was no gleam of malice in Damen’s warm eyes, and Laurent knew him well enough to be sure that if Damen were wishing to wield that power like a dagger to the heart he’d show his hand plainly enough. He had no talent for subterfuge and dissembling. He was as honorable as Laurent’s uncle was twisted, as true as a compass, as straight as the finest sword.

He had the ultimate power over Laurent - the power to crush his heart to dust under his heel, the power to make Laurent trip along after him to his very own death like an unwary lamb to slaughter - and yet he would never use it.

Never.

Laurent relaxed, just a little, and warmed as he watched Damen’s fingertips toy with the ends of his laces where they spilled onto the bed from his wrists.

Damen would never use his feelings against him. He would never even think of it.

Laurent, of course, had - without regret - used use Damen’s own feelings against him and might well again if it would save Damen’s life, but Damen was too noble, too honest, to do such a thing.

It was why Laurent was working so hard to keep him alive and keep Aklielos in his hands. Damen _needed_ to be allowed to become the strong king he was sure to be.

“I should get back to my letters,” he said, putting aside yet again the urge to pet Damen’s hair like a cosseted child, like the precious lover he was. It would be good for neither of them if he gave in. Akielos was the gift he needed to focus on giving right now. “Your letters, actually, since you have turned into a lay-about since becoming king.”

Damen’s fingers tightened on the ends of Laurent’s laces and held onto them like a tether as Laurent rose to his feet. “It is a good thing I can tell you are teasing, otherwise Paschal would have your head for making me get up to work.”

“In a fight between Paschal and me, I doubt it would be _my_ head that would roll,” Laurent replied dryly.

“True enough,” Damen said with a chuckle. He closed his eyes for a moment and then asked, “Do you have scrub vipers in Vere?”

“No, not for centuries,” Laurent replied, wondering at the non-sequitur and if it illustrated fatigue or something more serious.

“There are not many scrub vipers left in Akielos,” Damen said. “Only on some of the near-barren islands in the south. They’re vicious and quick, cunning when they’re on the hunt.” 

“I’ve read that their venom is a very effective poison. Apparently it produces a pronounced euphoria before death, and one could enjoy that side effect without losing one’s life if one ingested it in in very small quantities. Although not reliably.”

Damen twisted Laurent’s laces around his fingers and tugged, barely enough to move his arm. “Kastor always wanted one for a pet.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows; it sounded like a dangerous creature to keep as a pet. “For poison or for pleasure?”

“He was obsessed with the idea of raising one by hand,” Damen replied. “His tutor came from one of those islands, and she told us both tales of how if you came upon a nest of eggs and were able to capture one of the hatchlings and fed it milk and morsels of meat it would not bite you. It would still be vicious, but it would know your touch and never turn its venom on you. It would be as gentle as a rabbit, sweet and soft.”

“And why are you thinking about this now?” Laurent asked. “I am not sending Nikandros off to get you one.”

“No,” Damen agreed. He let go of Laurent’s laces and dropped his hand back to the bed. “You make me think of a scrub viper.”

Laurent went still, careful, his words coming out cold and precise. “I am some soft, fangless creature who eats out of your hand? Is that what you think of me?” The thought was revolting enough to choke him. Perhaps he’d been wrong about Damen not using his feelings against him. He kept his muscles locked, not allowing himself to take a step back, not willing to show that weakness on top of the rest.

To his surprise, Damen just laughed. “Fangless? No. I think your bite is swift, vicious and deadly,” he said. “Even to me.” He tipped his head and hummed thoughtfully as he regarded Laurent with sleepy eyes. “Maybe especially to me.”

“I... see,” said Laurent, who did not, in actuality, see Damen’s point beyond the fact that he seemed not to be insulting him after all.

“Though I would readily argue that your heady euphoric qualities still apply,” Damen added. “Even if I’m not in any state to prove it.”

“Rest, then,” Laurent told him. That much at least he could offer, even if Damen seemed half-delirious.

Damen caught his hand and kept him from pulling away. “You are deadly, Laurent,” he said. “Formidable and deadly. I love it.” He stroked his fingers over the back of Laurent’s hand. “But I do love your softness too when I am lucky enough to see it.”

Laurent smiled a little, warmed by both compliments. “You see it.” If it felt strange to be able to let his softer side out again, it also felt less restricting, somehow, to be known more fully, if only by one person.

Damen looked up at him again with a steady, serious affection. “I see you.”

“I know.” Laurent paused, struggling with his thoughts for a moment before admitting, “It is not always a comfortable thing. It has been the work of many years for me not to show my feelings. Myself.”

“I know,” Damen said. “But I still love it, your soft side. And your bite. And you.”

“You must,” Laurent said, thinking of that heart-stopping, heartbreaking moment when Damen had appeared in Ios, there to defend him, there to lose his life for Laurent despite all that Laurent had sacrificed to save him.

“I _must_ ,” Damen said, squeezing his hand. “I have to love you. I cannot do anything else.”

Laurent’s heart was tight in his throat, and he could not let this conversation go on. There was too much to be done. His heart was too fragile, too newly mended, to bear so much love all at once, though he knew he’d learn. He knew he would.

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” he said, pulling his hand away. “Of course you can do many other things, if only you’d rest and get back your health. You are no good to me lying about in bed for days on end.”

“That’s not true at all,” Damen replied, stretching one long arm up over his head. The lamplight made his skin look like it was gilded, and his gaze was soft and full of mirth. “It sounds rather nice to me, to lie about in bed with you for days upon days. Nights upon nights, too. I’m sure we would get some rest. Eventually.” His smile grew even warmer. “I’d be very good to you, indeed.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, though he could feel the flush rising on his neck at the very appealing thought. “The ferryman could be carrying you to the underworld, and you’d still be flirting.”

Damen reached out to catch Laurent’s hand in his own again. “Only with you,” he promised. “And I am not on that grey river’s shore, Laurent. I will mend.”

“Still,” Laurent said softly, shaking his head. He didn’t pull away, though. He couldn’t. Not from the tether of Damen’s grip and the even greater pull of his eyes.

“You are thinking too much,” Damen told him, just as quietly.

“Well, I am thinking for two. Two countries depend on me alone while you sleep and flirt and do nothing useful at all.”

“It will always be so,” Damen said with another laugh.

“No,” Laurent replied, serious in the face of Damen’s levity. What he had come to value most of all with Damen was how with him Laurent was never alone, never on his own against the world, not anymore. “Not always. Not usually, in fact, though if you repeat my words outside of this chamber I shall most certainly deny them.”

Damen stroked his thumb over Laurent’s fingers, making his skin burn. “No,” he said with a quiet earnestness. “No. We will do this together. All of it.”

Laurent squeezed his hand in a promise. “When you are well. That is your only job right now: to recover.”

“Thanks to you.” Damen raised their hands to his lips and kissed Laurent’s palm, soft and sincere. “All of my thanks to you, Laurent. I am grateful to you for - for more than I can say.”

Laurent shook his head mutely, not quite sure to do with the swell of feelings in his chest.

“And when I am recovered,” Damen continued, kissing more warmly over the pulse in his wrist with obvious intent, “I shall not only be there to plan and rule with you, but I shall be better able to stop you from thinking, too.”

Laurent smiled at him, at the flirtation in his touch, at the future they somehow had grabbed away from the death they had been promised. “Do not strain yourself, Damianos,” he replied, stroking the tips of his fingers over Damen’s lips and then finally giving in and petting his hair in a soothing caress. “I can wait.”

“There is time,” Damen agreed. His eyes fluttered shut again, but his smile did not fade.

“Yes,” Laurent promised. He pressed a soft kiss to Damen’s temple. “We shall have time.”

He would do everything in his power to make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> My dear readers, if you are concerned, rest assured that I am not leaving other fandoms behind me.


End file.
